Chapter 24
Tobias is about to head for some lunch when he hears the sound of a large lorry pulling up outside the property.
It looks like a delivery from a specialist kitchen company, some place that Olivia and Marcus had chosen between them, and which he vaguely remembers signing off on months ago.
As far as he’s aware though, they weren’t scheduled to deliver for another two weeks.
The lorry is clearly far too big for these small coastal roads, he sees.
God knows how the driver got it down here – by slavishly following his satnav, no doubt.
But he has managed it somehow. Although the lorry is now firmly blocking the road so that no other vehicles can pass from either direction.
And it is not long before the sounds of angry and impatient car horns can be heard.
‘Bill,’ he shouts, thundering downstairs to the ground floor level. He finds his foreman already traipsing down the garden, out towards the lorry, and Tobias follows on in quick pursuit.
The driver has shut off the engine now and is opening the back of the vehicle. He hands an iPad to Bill who is angling it this way and that in the sunshine, trying to read the screen.
‘Just do a squiggle in the signature box to confirm delivery.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ commands Tobias and he takes the iPad from Bill who looks relieved to relinquish it. ‘This lot wasn’t due for another couple of weeks. We’ve only just got the first fix done.’
The driver checks his phone to verify something.
‘Email notification sent to an Olivia Woolf to advise we were able to deliver ahead of schedule, which was confirmed by recipient.’
‘What? That’s the first I’ve heard. Christ. Where is that bloody architect? I ask you, what is the point of hiring these people if they’re not around when you need them?’
As if conjuring him from thin air, he sees Marcus’s tall muscular figure break into a jog, passing the tailgate of cars that is now accumulating behind the lorry.
‘What’s this doing here?’ asks Marcus, tilting his head towards the lorry, which is emblazoned with a logo that reads: Tavistock & Jones.
‘I might ask you the same thing.’
‘The kitchen isn’t meant to be fitted for another fortnight at least.’
Tobias plants his hands on his hips and looks pointedly at the driver again who merely shrugs.
‘Not according to my records.’
The horns continue to blare from both ends of the road. Tobias is aware of the odd curtain twitching, blinds tilting and he raises a hand in all directions as if to acknowledge an own goal.
‘Look, you’ll have to take it back and redeliver,’ he says.
The driver frowns.
‘No can do, mate. We haven’t got space in the stockroom. The delivery charges will be doubled as well. I wouldn’t advise it.’
‘He’s probably right,’ says Marcus. ‘Bespoke goods are usually non-returnable and if we did get it redelivered, it would most likely be damaged or incomplete after hanging around in storage. I’ve seen it happen before.’
Tobias, the delivery driver and Marcus all look at one another as the sun beats down on pinking heads, necks and arms.
‘Okay, okay,’ says Tobias eventually. ‘Just make sure it’s all present and correct.’ He hears someone lean out of an open car window and shout something that sounds abusive. ‘But I’m not signing off anything until we’ve checked it’s complete.’
He turns away, indicating that this is Marcus’s responsibility. And that’s when he sees an older couple approaching from up the road. They look familiar and he quickly pegs them as the owners of the B & B he chatted with a while ago. Of course, he’s forgotten their names.
‘Jeff and Barbara Cummings,’ supplies the man obligingly as he steers his wife gently with an arm in the small of her back. ‘We met the other day. Owners of Morningside B & B.’
‘Yes, yes, I remember,’ says Tobias nodding, one eye on the delivery lorry as Marcus steps up into the back of it. ‘How can I help?’
‘It’s just that you’re blocking the road,’ says Barbara, a mousy woman in every respect.
‘Yes,’ says Tobias, his voice patronising. ‘I am aware of that fact.’
‘One of our guests can’t get their car out. And we’re expecting a new arrival to check in soon as well. So you see, this is all very inconvenient. Not just for business but for the locals too.’
Tobias gives her the full force of his gaze.
‘As a local homeowner myself, I completely understand. And surely you must sympathise, since you had some renovation work done yourselves recently, I believe.’
‘Yes but it didn’t cause any kind of disruption,’ says Jeff, blinking behind his heavy-framed glasses. ‘Nothing like this.’
‘It’s this sort of thing that causes bad feeling,’ adds Barbara. ‘People don’t come on holiday to the seaside to get stuck behind a dirty great lorry. They get upset. Won’t want to rebook for next year.’
Tobias loses patience as the honking of horns and shouts continues. Why can’t Marcus bloody well hurry up? They haven’t even started unloading yet. He turns back to the old couple.
‘Yes, well I’m sorry but that’s hardly my fault.’
‘It is if you’ve caused the problem, created the bad feeling. We’re only as good as our reviews on TripAdvisor, you know. We rely on loyal customers, word of mouth, return business.’
‘Look,’ says Tobias, finally snapping. ‘If people no longer want to stay in your poxy little outdated place – and who can blame them when they can stay in a perfectly nice hotel or modern Airbnb – it’s your problem, not mine.
But it certainly isn’t down to a bit of congestion, I assure you.
’ The couple take a step backwards as if physically struck.
‘Indeed, I suggest you look a bit closer to home for reasons why your business is failing. Or better still, sell up. You’re fighting a losing battle, you do know that, don’t you?
Now, please, if you don’t mind?’ He gesticulates towards the lorry, the traffic jam, Marcus’s head which is finally emerging from the back of the truck.
‘I have more important things to deal with.’
Barbara and Jeff stand there for a moment longer, as though paralysed, their faces full of shock until they grasp each other’s hand awkwardly and turn to walk slowly back towards their home.